A Song Without Lyrics
by Rainbow Breaker
Summary: It's the Yule Ball. Draco Malfoy is avoiding the horrid classical music as well as his overly clingy date, Pansy Parkinson. When he stumbles upon a crying Hermione Granger, questions arise. What could bring the Mudblood to tears? Why does Draco care? but sometimes the answers just lead to more questions. Hogwarts dances truly are dangerous affairs. Yule Ball One-Shot


**A/N: The "What should have happened at the Yule Ball had things gone correctly" cliché. Here's what I think should have happened. **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have to write FanFiction to make Dramione happen because they would be for real.

A Song Without Lyrics

I hate classical music.

It's pointless. There are no words to express meaning or emotion, just sad notes and somber melodies that could be translated to mean anything. The artist's intentions for the song rest solely on the audience's interpretation. It's a pity that the Wizarding World loved classical music.

I was sitting in a chair at the Yule Ball. I was in the Fourth Year, and we were in the midst of the Tri-Wizard tournament. I was deftly avoiding Pansy Parkinson, who had proved to be especially clingy this evening. It's not that I didn't like her; we were great friends. She's just a bit possessive and liked me in a way that I didn't reciprocate. She was ruining a perfectly good friendship, and I needed time to breathe.

I spotted Crabbe and Goyle a few tables away gorging themselves on whatever they could get their hands on. After Goyle shoved an entire sausage into his mouth, I turned away in disgust. Absentmindedly, I took a sip from my goblet as I surveyed the scene around me. Young Wizards and Witches from three different schools seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. I wasn't too enthralled with the thought of dancing with Pansy, so I was comfortably seated on the side of the room. It was then that I noticed it.

A bundle of puffy pink was searching frantically through the crowds. Pansy. She appeared to be looking for me. I felt the anxiety rise up inside as I hurriedly stood to my feet. I really wanted to avoid the Slytherin girl. She had already tried to drag me to the mistletoe three times tonight, and then there was that one time she had tried to kiss me without the mistletoe. There was no polite way to refuse her a fifth time, and I really couldn't tolerate much more.

Glancing nervously around, I slipped along the wall and through the crowd until I came to the door. I jostled past a couple of Hufflepuff boys who appeared to be riling each other up to ask some Ravenclaw girls to dance. I rolled my eyes and unlatched the heavy door quietly as I escaped into the corridor. I was safe.

I had just stepped into the tranquil silence of the dimly lit corridor when I heard violent sobs coming from a staircase. I turned around to investigate who would have enough lack of self esteem to be crying in such a public place. In the dark light I could make out the figure of a girl in anguish. There was Hermione Granger, tears streaming down her face and periwinkle robes crumpled around her. I swallowed as I approached her cautiously.

"Are you crying, Granger?" I asked as callously as I could manage. I didn't want anyone who happened to pass by to misconstrue what was happening. I didn't care for Granger; I just wanted to know what on earth could possibly bring the obnoxious Mudblood to tears. Granger turned her watery gaze to glare at me.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she hissed quietly. I took that as an invitation to lean casually against the wall.

"Why are you crying?" I asked her with a little less bite in my voice. Perhaps, my earlier tone had scared her. Granger wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her face.

"My friends are idiots," she said venomously. She was staring at the floor with burning gaze as if imagining her pathetic friends were there instead. A dark brown curl had come loose from the intricate knot on the back of her head, and she curled in distractedly in her fingers.

"Yes, Granger," I drawled, "but you've never cried over their stupidity before. Or do you? I know that Weasel's incompetence is enough to drive anyone to tears." Granger rolled her watery eyes at me, but a small smile was curling her lips.

"Don't be rude, Malfoy," she chided gently. She attempted to stop her crying and sat calmly on the stairs sniffling. It was very unattractive.

"So, what did your friends do this time, Granger?" I asked her as I gently sat down next to her on the step.

"Why do you care?" she demanded incredulously. I shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm not heartless, Granger," I said stoically. "I just wanted to know why you were crying." Granger eyed me warily for a moment before sighing. I had never noticed the color of her eyes before. They were black. It was haunting.

"You've never cared before," Granger pointed out.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I made a move to leave, but Granger began to talk.

"Well, I went to the ball with Viktor Krum," she reminded me. I nodded my head in remembrance. "And Ron got mad at me for going with him," Granger said as her eyes began to water again.

"Was he jealous?" I asked her humorously as a smirk crawled onto my face. Granger looked at me with a bewildered expression.

"I highly doubt it," she said emotionlessly.

"Really?" I asked. "I was positive that you and Weasel were together." Granger's confused expression faded into an angry one.

"Well, we aren't," she spat. "He didn't even acknowledge that I was a girl until he ran out of other options." I looked at Granger with a stony expression.

"What do you mean?" I asked her in monotone. Granger bit her lip thoughtfully.

"He only asked me to the dance after everyone else was invited. I was a last resort. When he found out that I came with Viktor he got really upset," Granger said angrily. I considered the hem of my robe before answering.

"Weasel's just mad at himself, Granger," I told her quietly, refusing to make eye contact.

"What?" she asked intelligently. I scanned her teary face.

"He was mad at himself," I reiterated slowly. "He realized when you showed up at the ball that he had passed up his only chance to dance with someone who was not only beautiful but actually alright with being seen with him in public." I had attempted to say the last bit in a harsher voice, but that didn't stop Granger's jaw from dropping open.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Granger asked in shock. I felt my face heat up as I avoided eye contact with her. I nodded my head but chose not to say anything.

"Why aren't you inside?" Granger asked me quietly. I responded quickly, glad for the change of subject.

"Pansy," I said; the disgust was dripping off of my voice.

"What's wrong with Pansy?" Granger smiled at me.

"Well, it's really Pansy's lips that I have the problem with, I suppose," I mused. Granger let out a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she told me sincerely. I nodded my head.

"I suppose that we both had a miserable time," I said casually as I ran a hand through my hair.

"I was actually having a really nice time," Granger said wistfully. "But Viktor had to leave, and Ron sort of ruined the evening." I tilted my head as I considered Granger.

"Hogwarts dances are dangerous affairs," I smirked at her. Granger sighed heavily as she twisted her hands in her periwinkle robes.

"It's a pity that we don't have more dances. I love to dance, and I wasn't quite ready to stop," Granger bit her lip. I frantically considered my next move. Did I really want to do this? She was a Mudblood after all. What would my father think? Granger gingerly placed her head in her hands before I made up my mind. I sighed resignedly. I rose to my feet and extended a hand down to Granger.

"Would you care to dance?" I asked her formally. Granger stared at me, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She seemed to consider something.

"People will see us, Malfoy," Granger reminded me huffily. I sent her a self-satisfied smirk.

"I certainly hope so," I grinned at her cheekily. Granger brushed a piece of recently tamed hair away from her dark eyes.

"Why do you want to dance with me?" Granger wondered as she stared at the stone walls around us.

"I like dancing, but I'd rather not deal with Pansy. This way you get to dance, and I get a valid excuse to avoid that pink hazard," I said reasonably. A grin etched across Granger's face.

"I would love to dance," she smiled at me as she accepted my hand.

I gave her a smirk as I escorted us back to the ball. I pulled the door open and allowed her to enter first. We walked to the floor with smiles on our faces, ignoring the incredulous glances from our classmates.

The Weird Sisters were singing a fast-paced song. I smiled as Granger and I jumped up and down to the lyrics. This was music that I could understand. Lyrics. Words. Emotions. The beat of the song was pounding through the floor. It was obvious that the singer was upset over a break up. Dangerously upset. Someone next to me shouted lyrics as I twirled Granger in a circle. We proceeded in our embarrassing dance moves, laughing at each other. I was surprised that I was actually having a good time with Granger.

My happiness was rather short-lived as the song ended. Everyone on the dance floor coupled up as a slow song came on. I bit my lip in distaste. Classical music. Granger's cheeks went rosy as her eyes dropped to the floor.

"I love this song," Granger whispered. I stared at her incredulously, but she refused to meet my gaze.

"How can you love this song?" I demanded. "There aren't any words. You don't even know what it's about," I told her. Granger's blush spread across her face even more. She fingered her floating robes self-consciously.

"It's a love song," she said quietly. I thought for a second as I stood idly in the middle of the floor with Granger. We were the only couple not dancing.

"Would you like to dance?" I said bravely as I extended my hand. Granger smiled at me as she accepted it.

She placed her other hand on my shoulder, and I put mine on her waist. We flowed through the steps easily.

"I hate classical music," I told Granger conversationally as the intricate notes flowed through the air. Granger looked up at me with a startled expression.

"I love classical music. It's beautiful. Just listen to this song, and tell me you don't find it romantic," Granger challenged me. I stared at her as the wordless music continued to play.

"How can you tell this is a love song? There aren't any words saying that the artist is in love," I observed as Granger and I swayed gently back and forth.

"Love is expressed in more than just words, Malfoy," Granger said sincerely. I considered that as the lights overhead reflected in her dark eyes.

"I don't understand," I told her earnestly. Granger looked at me thoughtfully.

"Well, your parents can't tell you that they love you all the time, but you know that they do, right?" Granger tried to explain.

"I suppose," I answered noncommittally. I liked to think that my parents loved me, but I wasn't sure.

"Well then, you see? Love doesn't need words," Granger said, nodding her head to emphasize her point. I tilted my head at her.

"It would still be nice to be told," I argued as we continued to dance. "Sometimes words make you feel appreciated."

"It is nice," Granger agreed. "But you shouldn't rely on other people's opinions of you."

"I guess," I whispered sullenly as I stared at the ground beneath us, watching our feet step lightly. Granger did something quite unexpected. She reached up to brush a gentle kiss across my cheek.

"For what it's worth," Granger whispered. "I think you deserve to be told."

"Thank you, Granger," I said earnestly. I was a bit stunned from what she had just done, but I continued to keep up my suave attitude.

"Thank you for dancing with me," Granger murmured quietly as we continued through the steps.

"My pleasure," I told her smoothly. A smirk was pulling at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you for making tonight better," Granger smiled. Her eyes were sparkling brightly. I examined them closer. My previous observations were incorrect. Granger's eyes were brown. They were a deep brown that was almost indistinguishable from the black pupil. Their inherent warmness still made them a bit haunting.

"Weasel's a fool," I whispered to her, still looking into her mystifying eyes. Granger smiled even brighter before I twirled her.

I held Granger close to me, her arms wrapped securely around my neck. We continued to dance that way for the remainder of the night. When she laid her head gingerly on my shoulder, I came to a conclusion.

It turns out that I was wrong.

I love classical music.


End file.
